If you google it, you'll learn that there are 8 different words to express love. Most of us are familiar with Eros (romantic love), Philos (the love of fellow humans), and even Agape (spiritual or selfless love). We've probably heard of obsessive love (Mania), but there is also a word for enduring love (Pragma), playful love (Ludus), self love (Philautia), and familiar love (Storge).
There is not, however, a word for love of an animal.
There ought to be.
There is something magical about the way it feels to love an animal companion, and to know - truly know - that they love you back. It lifts the soul to have with another species of God's creation a connection so deep, so true, so real that you can communicate with one another without words, such that the slightest shift of light in their eye or tilt of their ear conveys everything they need you to know about what they are feeling, and the almost imperceptible shift in your mood tells them when to lie beside you, or lick your hand, or just gaze up at you with love.
Why isn't there a special word for that?
We loved - I loved - John Smith so completely. He wove himself into the fabric of our family and left an enduring mark. I will never forget his distinctive underbite (the result of an injury he sustained as a pup), his over-the-top energy, his boundless enthusiasm for EVERYTHING (especially the daily walk, car rides, and Starbucks puppacinos), his determination to cling to life no matter how many times it threw him a curve ball. His notoriously bad habits. HIs loud, penetrating snore. The sound of his short, sharp bark. His warm, soft, body and the way the back of his ears smelled so sweet and his paws smelled like popcorn. The feel of him stretched out alongside me on the bed, shoving me over against Dave so that he could have more room because, after all, didn’t he have as much claim to territory as the rest of us? And the look in his eyes when he wanted me to know just how much he loved me, and that he understood just how much I loved him.
The decision to end his mortal life this week was as difficult a thing as I have ever had to do. John awoke on his last morning still displaying his characteristic zest for life; unfortunately, despite his optimism, the tumor that had been growing rapidly on his leg had finally reached a point that it could no longer be treated or contained. That it was, inevitably, the right time did not make it any easier. He will always, always, be missed. He will also always, always be loved, in that special way that does not have a word. Rest in peace, my beautiful pup. I will see you again someday.
